


Yoke and Stir

by mlle



Category: Stardust (2007), Stardust - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlle/pseuds/mlle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Something here is not right. This market used to be a monument to all the variety of Faerie. It was never very safe, nor entirely savory, but it was not this.”</p><p>“What is ‘this’?” </p><p>Una nodded slightly to the stalls in front of them. “Those are goblin men.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yoke and Stir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EdgeOfLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeOfLight/gifts).



**The human mortals want their winter here;**  
 **No night is now with hymn or carol blest:**  
 **Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,**  
 **Pale in her anger, washes all the air…**

_— A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , Act 1 Scene 1

 

There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire.

And while that is, as beginnings go, a rather tired way to start—perhaps you’ve even heard it before—it is not untrue. But this world is not always kind to those who see no need to follow its precepts, and not all young men attain what they seek before the blush of youth fades from their cheeks.

This story begins, as so many do, on a sky vessel manned by the fiercest of pirates. The Caspartine was a grand old ship, and she rode the currents with a savage banner raised aloft. She struck fear in the hearts of all who saw her, and she took no prisoners, and her captain, the famed Deathmaker, beggared no deals and brooked no disobedience.

There, hidden away in the small library Captain Deathmaker kept to impress his guests, a young man read. For books are not as scarce in Faerie as you may think. He read, and every day, increasing his knowledge of the world, the arts, philosophy, and poetry, grew yet more desirous of seeing all that the books promised. In particular, he dreamed of a place called England: a green and grey and grassy and rocky and wet and sunny place, where men and women may be made famous for putting words on paper or proclaiming them upon a stage.

The young man knew he could never venture across the Wall and into his beloved England. The dangers were too great—the danger of disappointing his father, yes, but also the danger of what fate he might meet in the strange land. Among the young man’s chosen pastimes was one too sweet to abandon, yet punishable by death under the laws of England.

Nowhere is a perfect paradise.

And so the young man grew into adulthood. He accepted his birthright as the next captain of the Caspartine, and was thankful for the pleasures it afforded, and tried not to choke under the weight of its responsibilities.

Until one day, when two stowaways stepped aboard, and changed Captain Shakespeare’s life for good.

 

*

 

The Lady Una waved off a servant boy making to refill her wine. 

“And that’s the story, as it were.” The captain waved a hand at his own silver goblet. The boy tipped out a measure of red wine and returned silently to his seat against the parlour wall. 

“But tell me, Captain, what was your Heart’s Desire? To slip your skin and live in a form you chose? It is easily accomplished through magic.”

“No, dear, though I don’t begrudge those who need or want to change their shape.” He patted his chest. “I like this body well enough.”

“Then what?” 

“Well. To live in a world where the rules of performance aren’t bound so tightly by tradition. To change costumes as an actor changes roles, without needing to explain each day whether I woke up feeling like plumage or leather.” He smiled. “Or both.”

“And now?”

“It’s better. I don’t parade around the deck in marabou and petticoats, but I don’t have to hide my _très chic_ closet anymore either. I have your Tristan and Yvaine to thank for that.”

“They are helpful beyond their years at times.” Una smiled, but her slow blink had a touch of sadness to it.

“Oh, honey, why do I sense an ‘and yet’ about to come out?”

She sighed. “And yet I am not always at ease with them. I love them both dearly. I dreamed of Tristan my whole life. And I would let every witch in the kingdom kill me rather than have any harm come to him—or to Yvaine. But life at court…”

“Is much harder than facing certain death.” The captain nodded. 

Una’s fingers toyed with her goblet, but she did not raise the cup. “But I apologize for having set you off your story. You were almost to the part where you explain your sudden presence in court. We haven’t seen you since the wedding, I think?”

Captain Shakespeare smiled, his laugh lines wrinkling deeply. “I bring news from faraway lands.” His smile faded, and he raised his goblet to drain it in two gulps. “But it can wait until dinner. My king and queen should hear it too.”

 

*

 

The small dining hall at Stormhold could host a banquet for 30 guests, if necessary. It was lit by four fireplaces, hung round with a tapestry sequence depicting the life of a faraway holy man known as the Buddha. A long dining table ran the length of the room, but Stormhold’s guests that night were few, and they had gathered their chairs together around one end. Tristan sat at the head of the table—his concession to formality during a dinner with family and friends—his queen to his right, the captain to his left, and the Lady Una next to him. 

Two smiling servants placed plates heaped with roast potatoes, carrots, carved turkey, and further delicacies from beyond the borders of Faerie in front of the diners. They giggled as they made their way back towards the kitchen hallway, for Captain Shakespeare had graced them each with his warmest and most flirtatious smile. 

Una watched as Tristan shook his head at the captain. “Incorrigible still, I see?”

“It does keep an old boy young.”

“And busy, I imagine,” Tristan joked fondly.

“Oh no, your highness, I have plenty else to keep me busy these days.”

Yvaine perked up at this, her eyes finally leaving her plate. “Sounds promising. Tell us of an adventure?”

The captain carefully set down his knife and fork. He swept his hands in a grand gesture, relishing in the table’s collective bated breath.

“I’ve been,” he said at last.

Tristan cocked his head inquisitively, while Yvaine’s eyes widened and mouth fell open. “To England?” Her voice was high with excitement.

“ _Mais oui, bien sur_. To jolly old England at last.”

Una turned further towards him. “But I thought— you said today as we spoke—” She faltered as her eyes caught Yvaine’s frown across the table. “I’m sorry. Please go on.”

Captain Shakespeare placed his hand gently on hers. “So I did. But they changed the law last year. And I decided…” He gestured to Yvaine and Tristan. “Watching these two, I thought it was time I took some of my own advice. Can’t let fear hold you back forever.”

“And what did you find in England, Captain?” Tristan asked.

“It was as beautiful as I always dreamed, my boy.” 

Yvaine frowned again. “They why do your eyes look so sad?”

He laughed. “Can’t pull anything over on this one, can you? I’m glad you haven’t lost that directness, darling. It wouldn’t suit you not to say exactly what you think.” He paused. “Your highnesses—oh, I do love calling you two that—sad to say I come bearing bad news.”

The Lady Una made to excuse herself. “I should leave you all to this conversation.”

“No, dear, please stay.” The captain reached for her hand again. “I have a proposition for the crown, but it involves you as well.”

Una resettled in her seat. Her curiosity was peaked, but she couldn’t help notice the displeased look on Yvaine’s face. 

“Tristan, do you remember Queen Victoria?” 

He laughed at the captain’s question. “Well, I can’t say I had the pleasure of her acquaintance myself during my life in Wall. But yes, she was on the throne. For as long as I can remember, actually.”

“She holds it still. But her life has been marked by hardship this past year. Her mother died last spring. What’s worse, her husband passed on just this winter. She has not been seen publicly since.”

Tristan nodded. “Prince Albert was a great man. I’m sorry for her loss. It is great indeed. But what does it have to do with Stormhold?”

“Not Stormhold exactly, your highness. But Faerie, and the market, and Wall,” Captain Shakespeare explained. “Something has changed. The market is less safe than it’s ever been.” Yvaine snorted at this. “And colder. And… darker. My men tell me they’ve heard rumors. The darkness spreading towards the wall. Towards Wall itself. Winter snows that haven’t melted, that sort of thing.”

“And you think this is related to Queen Victoria?”

Una coughed a little. “I used to hear stories in the market. They say her love was a magic unto itself.”

Across the table, Yvaine’s lips were pursed in thought. She squinted at Una and the captain. “So you think, you two think, what? That Queen Victoria’s broken heart…”

“Has brought down a barrier that kept England safe from Faerie? Yes, my darling, sad to say I do. But the Lady Una is hearing this for the first time, same as you.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do about it?” Yvaine flung her napkin on the table.

Tristan reached out to her. “It’s okay, Yvaine. I’ll go to Wall and see for myself.”

“No, you won’t! It’s much too dangerous. And you have the Festival of Flowers to prepare for. You mustn’t break your promise to the Gardeners Guild.”

“If I may,” Captain Shakespeare interjected. “I was hoping that I could take Yvaine in your stead, your highness, to see what’s happening at the market.”

Tristan balked. “But you’ve just said it was unsafe! And she can’t go through the Wall or she’ll—”

“That’s why I want to take the Lady Una with us as well. They’ll be safe together, and under my care.” He placed his hands dramatically on his chest. “I swear my own sweet life on it.”

“The two most important women in the kingdom? I’m sorry, Captain, but I can’t allow it.”

Una and Yvaine looked towards Tristan in unison. Both their eyes flashed, one with cold fury, the other with motherly annoyance.

Captain Shakespeare chuckled mildly. “You don’t have any choice, I’m afraid. Besides, it has to be these two. There are some things only they can see.”

 

*

 

Tristan had argued more, and Yvaine had argued back, even as they left the dining room for the night. Una thought, as their elder, as mother of the king, she should interject, should stop their bickering, but she was at a loss. She ached for an adventure outside the palace walls, but the market? The thought of returning terrified her a little, and she was not proud of the feeling. But she had spent years there, in chains, at the beck and call of Ditchwater Sal, first as a girl and then trapped in the body of a bird. She did not relish the memories, save of course for the one night that had eventually brought Tristan into the world.

Yvaine prevailed, as Captain Shakespeare had always known she would. Una was worried that Yvaine would insist she stay behind as well, but she did not. Dunstan kissed Una’s hand and bid her stay safe, and then he kissed her mouth and bid her remember him fondly while she was away, and then she took him to bed to ensure that she would.

Within a few days, the Ladies Una and Yvaine were aboard the Caspartine, winging their way toward the market, and the wall.

 

*

 

Their journey was but a few days, and while Yvaine visited with the crew, who remembered and adored her, Una kept herself to her cabin. She was somewhat ill at ease aboard the skyship. Though the captain and crew treated her respectfully, she could not claim the closeness they shared, nor did she know them as Yvaine did. And she was touched by a skysickness that Yvaine and the seasoned pirates never felt. 

As they neared the edge of Faerie, the first mate knocked on the door to Una’s cabin. Her presence, he relayed, was requested in the captain’s quarters. 

Una made her way to Captain Shakespeare’s well-appointed suite, where he offered her wine and bread. Shortly, Yvaine slipped through the door to join them.

“Ah, sweetheart,” the captain greeted her fondly. “Here you are. You know I hate to pull you away from the deck on such a gorgeous night, but we have work to do.”

Yvaine’s checks were flushed from the air, and Una realized, then, that she had been stargazing. Being on the ship must have been the closest she had gotten to her sister stars since the last time she was here. 

“Work?” Yvaine asked.

The captain flung open his closet doors and turned back to regard them both. “Work.”

Una smoothed her hands down the front of her cream and gold brocade traveling dress. “Are we not clothed to your standard, captain?”

He gave her a long, appraising look, his eyes taking in every detail of her simple but luxurious dress. Then he smiled. “That won’t do at all of course, you look far too regal. And you, my darling,” he turned his glance to Yvaine. “Far too celestial.”

Yvaine turned to Una. “Best let him, you know.”

Una threw up her hands in mock despair. “I surrender myself to your judgment, then.” 

Pleased, the captain turned back to his deep closet. He flicked through an entire rack of clothes at lightning speed, selecting dresses and shawls and skirts and jackets. He piled each chosen item on one of two chairs, until their cushions were completely obscured in a froth of silk, cotton, lace, tweed, leather, and at least two fabrics Una did not have names for. 

The two women spent the next few hours trying on a seemingly endless parade of dresses, rags, traveling clothes, even suits, while the captain worked and reworked separates and accessories. Yvaine’s blonde hair was a tangled mess and the captain’s rooms looked like a particularly fashion-happy storm had burst through, but by the time the first mate announced their imminent landing, the women were ready.

For Yvaine, he had chosen a simpler variation of the blue dress he’d gifted her last time she was onboard. The tulle sleeves were replaced a sturdy jacket with velvet trim, the better to ward off the warned-of cold. Una wore a similar cut dress in a deep forest green, with a Swiss belt cinched round her waist and long, stylish sleeves. Though she and the captain had both loved her figure in breeches, they agreed that the two women would move more easily through the market disguised as distinguished but not notably high-born women. Their clothing would not mark them as belonging to any particular region of Faerie, much less Stormhold itself. 

“Ambiguity is the key,” the captain declared as he finished rearranging Yvaine’s hair into a neat fall, “to going unnoticed.” 

And with that, they were ready to reconnoiter.

 

*

 

The market was changed. There was no other way to put it. Where once crowds bustled between stalls draped in rioting colors and fabrics, now subdued men and women wandered, eyes barely taking in the dull browns and greys. Where once hawkers of every size, shape, and cast announced their wares gleefully, now haggard faced men stood silently, waiting as though they could not care whether anyone bought or not. 

Una and Yvaine turned a corner and found the market’s main strip. The usual chaos had been replaced by another kind. Stall after stall of small, dirty creatures with long, pointed fingers and wicked grins stretched in front of them. 

Una paused. She leaned close to Yvaine and spoke softly. “Something here is not right. This market used to be a monument to all the variety of Faerie. It was never very safe, nor entirely savory, but it was not this.”

“What is ‘this’?” 

Una nodded slightly to the stalls in front of them. “Those are goblin men.”

Just then, a small girl brushed past them, her shoulder pushing Yvaine’s skirt out of the way. It snapped the women out of their matched contemplation.

“We should keep walking,” Yvaine whispered. They set off again through the main thoroughfare. Una flicked her eyes from side to side as they walked, trying to observe without staring. The small, dirty men flicked their eyes right back.

At the far end of the path through the stalls, Una’s eyes finally lit on a familiar sight. A tent of luscious maroon stood slightly apart from the stalls around it. Barrels and boxes served as tabletops, displaying the shop’s potions and powders, each labeled carefully with intended dosage, effects, warnings, and a sample suggestion for the most enjoyable use. A banner over the back door read, “We advise you to alert your partner or partners to the use of our products.” The back door, Una knew, led to a small, enclosed tent with more tangible _aides de l’amour_. 

At that moment, a slight young man in breeches emerged from the curtained door. His softly messy brown hair offset his pointed chin and angular eyes, giving a mischievous cast to his otherworldly beauty. Seeing him melted the ice of Una’s panic a little, and she stepped forward to catch his eye. 

“Phee, my peculiar apothecary!”

The young man burst into a wide smile. “And my favorite market girl! Sweetness, how are you?”

“Better, now I’ve seen your face.”

“And what can I do for you today?” 

Una looked at the shop wares briefly. At the edges of her vision, she saw the nearby shopkeepers watching them carefully. An idea began to form in her mind. “Might we speak to you in private, my daughter-in-law and I?” She slipped her arm through Yvaine’s. 

“Of course. You know I’m always available for private consultations. Right this way.” He pulled back the curtain to the rear tent and ushered the women through.

Yvaine frowned as she settled on a cushioned chair in the small enclosed area, but she didn’t speak. Una arranged her own skirts on her seat. She searched for the correct way to start, but it was Phee who spoke first.

“Daughter-in-law, hm? Is that a truth?”

“It is, actually. Phee, this is Yvaine. She married the son I bore all those years ago. Yvaine, this is Phee, a dear friend and excellent confidante.”

Phee clasped Yvaine’s hand warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I do hope our surroundings don’t worry you too much.”

Yvaine blushed slightly as she looked around. “Oh, no. I have heard of such things, but never seen them up close.”

“Well, anyway, I suspect that’s not really what you’re here to talk about it, is it?”

“No. We…” Yvaine trailed off, looking helplessly Una.

“We’ve come to see about the market,” Una finished carefully. “You may realize why, but it will be better if we do not speak it aloud. Can you tell us anything about the… changes?”

“You mean the market’s new tenants. They’ve been coming down from the north. Gradually at first, one or two new stalls. But now they’ve nearly taken over, pushing out the other traders.”

Una nodded. “I hardly saw anyone I knew.”

“I couldn’t even tell you where the old standards have gone. Driven away or kept from traveling this far. We fear they will soon close the northern passes to all but their own kind.”

“And what of the Wall? I thought I saw—”

“Humans? You likely did. No guard stands at the gap now. Only a few have dared pass over, but they grow bolder every day. And next, well. The gap does not only open one way.”

Yvaine covered her mouth with her hand. 

“What are you thinking?” Una prompted. “You’ve been quiet so far, but tell us.”

“The sky feels wrong.” At their quizzical looks, Yvaine took a deep breath and continued. “Its greyness is unseasonal, yes, and there’s been rather more rain than is usual, hasn’t there? It is flooding where it should be nourishing at this time of year. And the night, as traveled here, it felt… angry. Mothe— I mean, the moon. She felt angry. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Aye,” Phee said. “A traveler yesterday told me the grey extends all way across the Wall. It is worrisome.”

“It is indeed,” Una responded. “It seems what we fear is true. Thank you, Phee, for your help.”

“Twas nothing.” He smiled his boyish smile. “Though I wish we’d met in happier circumstances.”

“You are always welcome to visit and ply your trade closer to our residence. I suspect you know where it is?”

He laughed. “I’ve heard rumors. But never fear, I shan’t give you away.” 

Una caught Yvaine’s embarrassed but relieved look, and she took her daughter-in-law’s arm again.

 

* 

 

As they took their leave of the tent, a loud clamor drew their attention to a stall across the way. It was a fruit stand, heaped with garishly bright apples, lemons, oranges, quinces, and more, all standing out starkly against the brown mud and the grey light. Una saw the little girl who’d walked by them earlier. She was arguing with the rat-faced men who ran the stall, shaking something in their faces. Tears streaked down her cheeks and her shrill voice pierced the air. 

Before Una could react, Yvaine wrenched her arm free and hurried over, spite in her step. Una followed after her, but hung back a few paces. One of the men had grabbed the little girl’s arm, and she was sobbing louder at the painful grip. Una watched Yvaine rear up to her full height, eyes flashing. 

“Let go of her this instant!” she pronounced with a queenly poise. The very air around her seemed to darken as she ripped the man’s hand away. The men and the very market itself seemed to freeze in the face of her wrath. Una froze as well, fearing the attention Yvaine had drawn to them.

But no reprisal was forthcoming. The shokeepers appeared wary, not sparked to action. Yvaine guided the little girl back over to where Una stood. “Are you alright?” Yvaine asked the child gently.

She nodded hesitantly, scrubbing tears from her face with her little hands.

“And have you anyone waiting for you? Anyone safe?”

The girl nodded again. She stared at Yvaine with wide eyes, and finally spoke. “Yes, miss. My sister, Lizzie, is at home, across the Wall.”

“Come then.” Yvaine guided her to the edge of the market, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Una felt the collective eyes of the market on their backs as they went, but Yvaine seemed to ignore them entirely. She walked the girl into the adjacent field, until they were in sight of the wall but still a safe distance from it. Una watched as Yvaine knelt down to the girl’s height. Her face was kind, the frown she’d been wearing since they entered the market replaced by a soft look of concern. 

“Little one,” she said, “go home to your sister. It isn’t safe here.” Yvaine cast her eyes upwards to the grey sky. “And you will miss her more dearly than you can imagine if you become lost, or caught.”

The girl nodded one last time and scurried away towards the Wall. Una waited until she was safely over the stones and out of sight to speak.

“You did well with her.”

Yvaine regarded her, her frown still melted into concern. “I have had good examples. Mother Moon, though she is changeable and, as I see today, capable of great anger. And, of course, you.” She took Una’s arm of her own free will this time. With one last glance to the Wall, she said, “Come. We should get back.”

Una settled her hand over Yvaine’s on her arm with what she hoped was motherly comfort.

 

*

 

Back on the Caspartine, Una unbelted her dress and wrapped herself in a shawl. She knocked lightly at the captain’s door. 

“Come in, dear,” he called. Yvaine was already seated at a table across from him. They looked to be deep in discussion.

“Oh… I interrupt. Forgive me.” She moved back towards the door.

The captain made to speak, but Yvaine stopped him. “Una. We were just discussing what to tell Tristan on our return. We had hoped… I had hoped you would advise me on how best to proceed.”

“I— Surely the captain would be better suited to this task. The crown needs not my counsel.”

Yvaine crossed the room from where she sat and took Una’s hands in her. “I always need your counsel.”

Una felt a weight she hadn't known she carried lift from her shoulders. “Forgive me, Yvaine. You have seemed unhappy on this trip. I thought my presence an imposition.”

Yvaine shook her head vigorously, her blonde hair shaking out around her. “I was worried for my love, my adopted land, and myself, but I was also worried for you. Asking you to return to the market was not something I took lightly, for your sake.”

“Nor I for yours.”

“But we’re safe. And we are a family. And together we will solve this.”

Captain Shakespeare cleared his throat discretely. “My dears, you make a lovely tableau, the very picture of family warmth. But sit back down—we have to strategize.”

 

*

 

There was once a young man who gained his Heart’s Desire, and having done so, found himself responsible for a kingdom. And while he may not have seemed suited to the task, he was surrounded by women whose very presences modeled the best way to rule. 

He made as few decisions as possible, but those he made were wise ones, even if the wisdom was not always apparent at the time. He was valiant in battle, though his left hand was scarred and of little use, and a cunning strategist; he led his people to victory against the Northern Goblins when they closed the passes to travelers; he forged a lasting peace with the Eagles of the High Crags, a peace that remains in place until this day.

And he did it all by trusting the women around him, and letting them find their way together.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The title comes from Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market," for reasons that are perhaps obvious.
> 
> 2\. The first line and the penultimate paragraph ("He made as few decisions as possible...") are borrowed from Neil Gaiman's novel. 
> 
> 3\. I've called the land "Faerie" as Gaiman does as well. Here, Stormhold is a kingdom within it.
> 
> 4\. "Buggery" was punishable by death in England until 1861.* The same year saw the death of Queen Victoria's mother, Princess Mary Louise Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, as well as the Queen's husband, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.
> 
> * It's worth noting that "buggery" was still a criminal act until the UK Parliament repealed buggery laws relating to consensual homosexual sex in 1967. I'm in no way suggesting that LGBT rights were suddenly completely sorted in 1861. They weren't. :(
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to my cheerleader and beta, LorelaiSquared. This fic wouldn't be half of what it is if you hadn't let me ramble to you at every stage of the process!


End file.
